Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard
by star bunny
Summary: The first year at Hogwarts told from Draco Malfoy's perspective. Lots of quasi-evil Draco and Slytherin goodness. :)
1. The Owl

**Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard - Year 1 at Hogwarts**  
by: Star Bunny  
rated: PG

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy belongs to JKR... and so do most of my other characters... and quite a few of my plot devices... and a bunch of the quotes. So, basically, I don't own anything except a couple of Draco's books and his sunburn. Too bad. 

Note: Later on you'll notice that I'm taking quite a few quotes from the books, but I'm also making up some scenes. Anything I make up is subject to be revised should future Harry Potter novels contradict what I've written. I want this to be as close to canon as possible. :) 

Spoilers: PS and CoS for this chapter. Eventually all four. 

Chapter 1 -- The Owl 

Draco Malfoy was a very special boy. Although he was neither exceedingly smart, athletic, or remotely nice, Draco was unlike most other eleven-year-old boys on the planet. He was a wizard - and a very promising one at that. 

True, he was no Harry Potter - but that was what made him so much more special. Draco was never meant to be a Harry Potter, born into fame, beloved by all, and the most powerful wizard of his time. No, Draco Malfoy was destined to be overshadowed, misunderstood, and unpleasant. 

Draco was the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, a very wealthy and prominent wizarding couple. The Malfoys were known supporters of the infamous Dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, during his reign of terror. In the aftermath of the Dark Lord's reign, they had managed to escape charges by claiming that they were acting under the Imperius Curse, but very few had actually believed that. 

Presently, Draco was enjoying his last few days of summer vacation. He loved to boss around the servants and house-elves. It was the way he had been taught to behave; they existed for the sole purpose of satisfying his every whim. Considering this was Draco, there were very many whims to satisfy. He sat down to relax next to the immensely large pool with a glass of cold pumpkin juice, intent on doing nothing for the rest of the day. 

"Where could that owl be!" snapped a shrill voice from inside the mansion. Draco rolled his eyes and tried in vain to block his mother's snippy voice from his brain. But apparently Narcissa had decided to join her son by the side of the pool and would not be shut out. "Polly Parkinson told me that Pansy got her letter yesterday - and Vincent Crabbe got his last week!" 

"So what if I haven't gotten a letter yet. It'll come." Draco slurped his pumpkin juice loudly, well aware that this completely annoyed his mother. 

"But Draco--" 

"It'll come, Mum," he sighed. 

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Draco Malfoy. And the letter had better come. If Albus Dumbledore thinks that he can slight our son…!" 

"I don't see why you're so set on Hogwarts, anyway. Dad wanted me to go to Durmstrang, and I'd have got along just fine there." 

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at him. "There was no good reason to send you to Durmstrang - you know that! Hogwarts is a perfectly acceptable school, and you will fit into Slytherin just fine." 

Draco shrugged, unwilling to carry the conversation any further. Truth be told, he was not terribly concerned with fitting in wherever he wound up. He had always been a loner - except when circumstances arose where having others around him was absolutely necessary. One of his father's favorite sayings was that friends were good for only two things: advancing your career and exploitation. Who cared if people liked him so long as they respected and feared him? 

Narcissa frowned at him, obviously disappointed in his lack of interest. "Draco, dear, do try not to stay out in the sun too long. You know how delicate your skin is." 

In response, he set down his pumpkin juice and dove into the water, effectively ending the conversation. 

Narcissa stared at him for a moment, then turned sharply on her heel and went back inside. 

"Delicate skin, indeed!" he muttered, treading water in the deeper end of the pool. Like most boys his age, Draco had reached a stage where he paid very little attention to what his mother said. And being the rebellious child that he was, he was now determined to stay out in the sun for as long as he possibly could. "After all," he sighed, "I'll be at Hogwarts soon - no chance for a good swim there." 

~~~ 

The next day, Draco hid out in his room, nursing a bruised ego and very painful sunburn. He supposed that he had stayed out in the sun a bit too long yesterday - but at least it had been fun. The Malfoy's house-elves were busy applying a soothing anti-burn potion and waiting for the redness to die down. Draco leaned back against the pillows of his bed, hissing slightly as his sunburnt left shoulder missed the pillow and hit the headboard. To cover it up, he quickly snapped at one of the elves. 

"Does it take all day to get a breakfast? I'm hungry here!" 

"We is sorry, master," the little elf sobbed. "But the mistress is saying we must heal master's sunburn first!" 

"Then one of you stay and apply the potion, and the other go get my breakfast! It will be no good if I am sunburn-free, yet waste away from hunger." 

The other elf nodded frantically. "We is understanding. Dobby is going for food, sir." 

Draco laid his head back on the pillow, careful this time to avoid the headboard, and thought back to his conversation with his mother. She was right - he really should have gotten his owl by now. Either something was wrong, or Hogwarts didn't want him. Well, fine then! He didn't want Hogwarts either. At Hogwarts he would have to play the part of the nasty Slytherin boy, the son of Lucius Malfoy. Not that he wasn't nasty, but it was the fact that it would be expected of him to be the nastiest - the leader of all the others... 

He suddenly sat up, eyes narrowing and jaw set in a firm line. What was he thinking! He was a Malfoy, raised from birth to be a leader. 

Draco grunted and reached over to the nightstand for a book. One of Draco's favorite things in the world was reading, as it was a great escape from the reality of his life. He was especially fond of wizard actions books such as _The Sovereign Sorcerer_ and _From Everlasting to Everlasting: a judgment day tale_, but he had been known to read _A Young Wizard's Guide to Joke Telling_, the very popular _Spells of the Heart_ (his mum didn't know he had that one) and he had even once picked up _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_ before his father burned it. 

The book he picked up this time was _Flying With Emily_, a silly little romance about a world-famous Quidditch star who fell in love with his childhood best friend. 

As he opened the book to the last chapter he'd read, he prepared himself to be once more engaged in the life of Alistair Swift - which he was only interested in for the Quidditch, he reminded himself - and the very exciting match against the Terra Pins. 

"Master, here is your breakfast." Draco took the food from the Elf and began to eat, making sure he didn't get any food between the pages as he read. 

_As Alistaire held up the trophy, he looked up in the stands for Emily. He found her watching him. Her eyes were teary, and her smile was telling him everything he needed to know..._

~~~ 

Draco's sunburn had died down by lunchtime, and he was allowed to come downstairs to eat. His mother was already at the table when he came in, and she was holding something in her hand. 

"The owl came today," she smiled. "Here's your letter." 

Draco grabbed it from her and tore open the seal. 

**"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**  
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_)

Dear Mr. Malfoy, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely,   
Minerva McGonagall,   
_Deputy Headmistress_" 

Draco lowered the letter and looked over at his mother triumphantly. "Told you it would come." 

"Yes, dear," she wrinkled her nose, "but you see how they left it to the last minute? Today is July 30, and they must get the reply by tomorrow. It is a great inconvenience to us." 

Draco merely shook his head and fished out the list of supplies. The list was quite long, and it meant they would certainly need to make a trip to Diagon Alley soon. 

Privately, Draco agreed with his mother that the letter had come late enough to be inconvenient to him... and so he really shouldn't be so excited about a school that didn't want him. But he couldn't help the slight thrill of excitement at the thought of going to Hogwarts. It was almost like something out of a dream - or maybe like something out of one of his books. 

He was going to go to school, have great adventures, and perhaps someday become a great wizard. He could see it now... 

~~~ 

To be continued... 


	2. Diagon Alley

**Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard - Year 1 at Hogwarts**  
by: Star Bunny  
rated: PG

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy belongs to JKR... and so do most of my other characters... and quite a few of my plot devices... and a bunch of the quotes. But I do own Mlle Durich, Draco's wand, and Wade Wadsworth (isn't he a cutie? ^_^ ). 

A special thank you to my beta reader, Arabella. You've been such an encouragement and help to this story! :) 

Note: You'll notice that I'm taking quite a few quotes from the books, but I'm also making up some scenes. Anything I make up is subject to be revised should future Harry Potter novels contradict what I've written. I want this to be as close to canon as possible. :) 

Spoilers: PS and CoS so far. Eventually all four. 

Chapter 2 - Diagon Alley 

On the morning the Malfoy's set off for Diagon Alley to purchase Hogwarts supplies for Draco, there was an air of severe unfamiliarity between father, mother and son. Never in Draco's life had there been much family time in his house, and he didn't like it. And if the terse scowl on his father's face was any indication, Lucius didn't like it either. 

Their first stop of the day had been to Eelyops Owl Emporium. Draco, who was very fond of flying, felt a certain kinship with the great birds. The walls were full of them: barn owls, screech owls, great horned owls, spotted owls, tiny elf owls, and even a single snowy owl. Draco's favorite was a great horned owl near the back of the store. He was large, powerful, with a beautifully white throat, which was in stark contrast to his much darker body. But when Draco pointed him out to his father, Lucius would not even look at him. 

"We came here to get you a suitable owl for Hogwarts. And I have already found her." He pointed toward an eagle owl at the very top of the store where only the most expensive and rare owls were located. Draco frowned. There was, of course, nothing wrong with her - light-colored head with a black body flecked with tawny spots. Her talons were sharp, and her eyes were unforgiving. She was the only eagle owl in the store, as Ukrainian eagle owls had been nearing extinction for years, but she was not the rarest or most expensive owl in the store, nor was she the most beautiful. And suddenly Draco knew exactly why his father had chosen her. 

Hundreds of years ago, the possession of an eagle owl was connected with satanic practices and evil intentions. Lucius meant for this owl to be a symbol of Draco's future as a servant of evil. Draco felt almost embarrassed at the gesture, sure that someone watching would guess what Draco had suspected for years -- that his father was more deeply enmeshed in the Dark Arts than anyone had believed, and that he expected his son to follow suit. However, he could not deny that she was a beautiful owl, one that he would not mind taking to school with him. 

They purchased her, at a steep price, and left the store. Lucius had named her Keres, but Draco figured that she was his owl and he could call her whatever he wanted to. He had decided that if his owl were a girl he would call her Alita, after Wade Wadsworth's Pegasus. Wade Wadsworth was Draco's favorite action hero; he had already read _Wade Wadsworth the Wily Wizard_, _Wade Wadsworth and the Great River_, and he had just finished _Wade Wadsworth and the Escape from Paradise_. 

On their way to the robe shop, Draco hung back from his parents and spoke softly to the owl. 

"I know that father has been calling you Keres, but I'm not too fond of that name. And since you're going to be seeing a lot more of me than of him, I was wondering would you mind so much if I called you Alita instead?" 

She stared up at him looking quite unconcerned and agreeable. 

"I'm going to take that as a 'no, I rather like Alita' if you don't mind," he declared in a lofty tone. "Very well, Alita. I am Draco Malfoy, your new owner." 

"Draco, dear," Narcissa called back in an uninterested tone, "don't talk to your owl. It isn't proper, and people are beginning to stare." 

Draco wrinkled his nose in agitation, but did as she said and ended his conversation with Alita. The short walk to Madame Malkin's robe shop was very uneventful, although Draco did enjoy passing by Quality Quidditch Supplies. The new Nimbus Two Thousand had been on display, and he was just itching to have one. His broom at home was a Comet Two Sixty, and while it was nicer than any of the brooms his classmates would have, it was nowhere near the new Nimbus model. 

Inside the robe shop, Draco was quickly led into the back and put into the hands of Mme. Malkin's best seamstress, Mlle. Durich. Draco's father handed her several galleons and gave her detailed instructions on how the robes were to be made. 

"I do not want an expense spared, understood?" The young witch nodded, hurrying into the stock room for supplies. "Draco, give me your book list. I'll be at Flourish and Blotts, and then I have a few other errands to run. Narcissa, you can go look at wands." 

"But Lucius," Narcissa raised her eyebrows, "shouldn't he go pick out his own wand?" 

Lucius rewarded her with a cold stare and an annoyed glance in Draco's direction. "I do not have time for an all-day excursion. He will spend enough time getting his robes fitted. I am sure you are adept enough to pick out a suitable wand." 

Draco frowned at this. Picking out a wand was the best part of preparing for school. And hadn't he read somewhere that it was the wand that picked the wizard? He scowled as he watched his parents leave the store. 

Mlle. Durich came back in just then with a length of fabric that Draco could tell was quite expensive. It was thick, silky, and had a faint sheen. 

"I just need a few measurements, dear," she mumbled through the pins in her teeth. Soon she was draping the fabric over him, magically cutting, wrapping, tucking, and rearranging the deep black material. "Hands up for a minute." 

As Draco held up his hands to allow the witch to pin up his robes, the door opened and a skinny boy with messy black hair and broken glasses dressed in Muggle clothes walked in. Madame Malkin brought him back to the stool next to Draco and slipped a robe over his head. Despite much thought to the contrary, Draco was not always a mean person. Sometimes, when he felt so inclined, he would actually manage to be somewhat civil. Such was his intent when he started a conversation with this boy. 

"Hello," he nodded at him. "Hogwarts, too?" 

"Yes," the boy replied, his surprisingly green eyes open wide. Obviously he was a little shy. 

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." When the boy still didn't say anything, Draco tried asking him a question. "Have _you_ got your own broom? 

"No." 

"Play Quidditch at all?" 

"No." 

Now Draco was beginning to get frustrated with him. Could the boy not give an answer longer than a syllable? Naturally, his next plan to get the boy to talk was to get a rise out of him. Making people mad almost always guaranteed an answer - and even if it didn't, it sure was fun! 

"_I_ do," he sniffed arrogantly. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree." Still nothing! What a bore - no doubt he would end up in Hufflepuff. "Know what house you'll be in yet?" 

"No." 

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been-" he glanced at him surreptitiously to gauge his response, but the boy's expression didn't change. "-imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" 

But all the boy could say was, "Mmm," and Draco had just about decided that conversation with him was completely pointless. Just then, Draco spotted a huge man, standing outside the window of the robe shop and grinning madly inside. 

"I say, look at that man!" he cried, pointing at him. 

"That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts." 

_So Junior can talk_, he thought sarcastically. But his reply was - to his mind - much more diplomatic. 

"Oh. I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?" 

"He's the gamekeeper," the other boy replied with a hint of anger in his voice. Draco picked up on this instantly. He had a soft spot for the giant! With a slightly amused grin, he pounced. 

"Yes, exactly. I've heard he's a sort of _savage_ - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." 

The boy's bright green eyes narrowed. "I think he's brilliant." 

"_Do_ you? Why is he with you? Where are your parents?" 

"They're dead." 

That was unexpected... but it wasn't in Draco's nature to regret what he said. In any event, this did call for an apology of sorts. 

"Oh, sorry. But they were our kind, weren't they?" _Lovely apology, Draco_, he thought wryly. Then again, he didn't really care. 

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." 

Draco smiled. Finally some neutral ground! "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?" 

But before the boy could answer, Madame Malkin patted him on the shoulder and said, "That's you done, my dear." The boy hopped down from the stool and headed for the door. 

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," Draco called after him, but the boy didn't even so much as wave. What a boring conversation that had been! Obviously the boy hadn't been too wealthy, because his robes had been rather hastily done. Draco knew that he would probably be in the robe shop for at least another thirty minutes, making sure that his quite expensive robes were tailored just right. Especially now that Mlle. Durich had taken out all of the pins and was starting over from the beginning. 

~~~ 

When Draco finally left the robe shop, it was much later on in the day and both of his parents had finished their shopping. His mother handed him his wand and said in a rather tight, stiff voice, 

"It's unicorn hair. Mahogany. Ten inches. Give it a try." 

Draco gingerly took it from her. He shrugged. It didn't feel wrong, exactly... but Draco had never held a wand other than his mother and father's. He cleared his throat and tried the only spell he knew. 

"Lumos," he spoke clearly... and the tip of the wand began to glow noticeably. "Guess it'll do," he nodded. "Nox." 

"Good," his father looked pleased. "Here are your books. Are we done yet?" 

"Well, I was thinking we should go looking for brooms." 

"Draco," his father sighed, "you aren't allowed to bring one. Stop wasting my time with silly window shopping." 

Draco scowled at his father, but made no move to cross him. Lucius Malfoy was a formidable man when he became angry, and Draco rarely got up the nerve to fight with him. 

The three Malfoys quickly made the rest of the purchases that Draco required for school, and then they left for home. Lucius immediately headed for his study, where he frequently would hole himself up in for days at a time. Narcissa began to snap orders at a trembling house-elf. Something about a burnt-smelling pumpkin tart. 

Draco, meanwhile, went out into the back lawn to fly a bit. He was more than a bit putout that his father wouldn't get him a new racing broom, and he wanted to fly his anger out. It was a great way of winding down, and frankly, Draco was a natural flyer. His favorite Quidditch position to play was Beater - he got a kick out of hitting the Bludgers - but he had been told by more than one expert that the only position he would ever be accepted at was Seeker. His build was lean and small, the perfect size for a Seeker, and he was nowhere near strong enough to be a good Beater. 

So recently, Draco had been practicing Seeking. It wasn't nearly as fun as the other positions - you had to just sit there until the Snitch appeared, and he very frequently became bored sitting around and waiting on it - but if he were destined to be a Seeker, it would be better to be prepared. 

He opened up his box of Quidditch balls, released the Snitch, grabbed his Comet Two-Sixty and kicked off the ground. The wind rushed past his ears as he sped in the direction the Snitch had headed. It was exhilarating, it was heady, it was... completely pointless if he couldn't figure out where the Snitch was! 

Draco paused in mid-air, wondering how it was the he had lost the Snitch. It had been right there just a moment before! He leaned back slightly and sighed. Draco had the feeling that little golden ball was going to be the bane of his existence more than once in the future. 

~~~ 

To be continued... 


	3. To Hogwarts

**Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard - Year 1 at Hogwarts**  
by: Star Bunny  
rated: PG

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy belongs to JKR... and so do most of my other characters... and quite a few of my plot devices... and a bunch of the quotes. But I do own Wade Wadsworth, the brave, heroic, and very cute. ^_~ 

Note: You'll notice that I'm taking quite a few quotes from the books, but I'm also making up some scenes. Anything I make up is subject to be revised should future Harry Potter novels contradict what I've written. I want this to be as close to canon as possible. :) 

Spoilers: PS and CoS so far. Eventually all four. 

Chapter 3 - To Hogwarts 

August passed by sluggishly, as if the stifling summer heat was doing all in its power to prevent the onset of the cool autumn air and the end of Draco's summer of freedom. While his father was busy at work and his mother with the management of the house, Draco would either practice his flying or sneak to the back of the house to practice his spells. But once he learned that it took more than a little concentration to master even a simple spell, he quickly replaced wand practice with a bit of reading. His mum had hinted that she had ordered the new Wade Wadsworth book by owl post as a going to school present, so Draco decided that he would reread all of the previous books just in case. 

Two weeks before school was to start, on a Tuesday morning when his father should have been at work and Draco should have been fast asleep, Lucius sent the house-elves to wake Draco up and bring him downstairs. Sleepy, grumpy, and hurriedly dressed, he finally arrived to find his father and a man he didn't know sitting at the table. The man was dressed in Hogwarts robes, immaculate but unimpressive, and had an unfeeling face. His dark hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks, but it was neatly combed and fell limply down his face. 

"Draco," Lucius stood, gesturing at one of the remaining chairs, "if you would join us?" 

Draco was used to meals such as this, as Lucius very frequently included his son in his business dealings. All Draco need do was sit still and not speak unless spoken to. He quietly sat down and grabbed a piece of bacon from a nearby platter. 

"Draco, I'm not sure you've ever had the pleasure. This is Severus Snape, a former colleague of mine." 

_Former colleague_, Draco thought amusedly. His father had more former colleagues than the last Minister of Magic. And each one felt they owed him a personal favour or two for one reason or another. Draco was quite impressed with the power his father was able to wield and hoped one day to reach the same stature. But business dealings of this nature were horribly boring to Draco, especially since he never had any idea what they were talking about. It was as though they were speaking in some sort of code to which Draco was not privy. 

"Mr. Snape," Draco nodded respectfully, as was expected of him. 

"That will be Professor Snape to you, Draco," he nodded back. 

"Severus teaches Potions at Hogwarts, as well as being head of Slytherin House. I'm sure that you will be seeing much of him in the next few years." 

"You teach Potions?" Draco spoke up suddenly. "I've heard that no one likes that class." 

"It is true," Professor Snape nodded. "Many of the students do not have the patience that it takes to be successful at Potions, and it has gained a rather bad reputation." 

Lucius smiled coldly. "Draco is not a very patient boy. Perhaps you can..." 

Snape seemed to understand Lucius' unfinished statement, for he smiled the same cold smile, right down to the quirky sneer. 

"I'll do all I can to help Draco along." 

For a moment, Draco thought he heard sarcasm lacing the Potion master's voice, but he immediately dismissed that thought. No one was sarcastic to his father... But as his father apparently didn't notice it, nothing further was said. Lucius immediately changed the subject to business, and Draco - as usual - stopped listening. Instead, his thoughts turned once again to Hogwarts with all the naïve expectation of a soon-to-be first year. He wondered what it would be like - he began to plan all sorts of great adventures - and he, for the first time, actually began to think about classes. Strangely enough, of all the time he had spent thinking of school, he had not once remembered that while he was at school he would be expected to go to class and actually _learn_. It was a rather unpleasant thought, and it made the thought of leaving on the Hogwarts Express in two weeks a bit less exciting. 

The Malfoys had made sure that Draco was tutored in all of the rudimentary subjects (Latin, Arithmetic, Development, and Spelling), and he had quickly learned that his parents would accept nothing less than exemplary notes from him. He expected that their attitude would be much the same towards his performance at Hogwarts. 

Draco paused in the middle of eating his eggs to make sure that he wasn't supposed to be paying attention: 

"... no new developments so far as I know," Snape was saying. "But my position at Hogwarts has greatly limited my contacts." 

"I should think so, especially with your proximity to Albus Dumbledore. You should be careful how you act." 

"Dumbledore trusts me implicitly..." 

_Still business_. Draco once again stabbed his eggs, annoyed at how runny they were. He would have to speak with the elves about this. 

~~~ 

Two weeks later, the Malfoys were once again in the midst of a family affair. It was September 1, and the day Draco was to board the Hogwarts Express. As they waited in front of platform 9 ¾, Narcissa checked over Draco's bags to make sure he had forgotten nothing. 

"Draco, dear, did you bring that last trunk with you? Or did you decide to only take these?" She swept her hand over the large pile of luggage cluttering the ground. 

Draco mentally ticked off all of the items he had wished to bring (_two trunks of robes, wand, owl, books, **no broom**..._) satisfied that he had them all. "I think this is it, Mum." 

"Well, I think you're ready, dear. Here's an off-to-school present from your father and I. Don't forget to study hard. I'll be sure to send you sweets." She handed him a gold-wrapped box, which looked suspiciously like a book. Draco grinned. Hopefully his mother had taken the hints he had given her about wanting the new Wade Wadsworth book. He took the box from her, lightly kissing her cheek as he did so. He turned to his father, who was wearing a proud expression on his face. 

"Be sure to always conduct yourself as a Malfoy, son. I expect great things from you." Once again, a grin broke out on Draco's face. There were no better compliments than the few that he received from his father. Lucius nodded at him, then took Narcissa's arm and headed back out the archway. Draco watched them for a second, and then boarded the train. He found an empty compartment near the middle of the train just as the whistle sounded. The train began to pull out of the station, and Draco sat down in his compartment without so much as glancing out the window. 

He pulled a book out of his sac and sat down to read. He had been reading the _Wade Wadsworth the Wily Wizard_ series for the past year, and each book never failed to completely engage him. Wade was such a carefree hero, completely selfish in his gains, and absolutely reckless. His mother had indeed gotten him the fourth book in the series (_The Unmerciful Manticore_ in which Wade faces the evil manticore Fudgups), but he had yet to finish rereading _Wade Wadsworth and the Escape from Paradise_, Book 3 in the Wade Wadsworth series. He found his place quickly - he was at a very tense part of the book, right before the final battle - and began to read. 

_Wade stood at the city wall. Canaan'arfon was a great city, probably filled with the greatest show of military might he had yet encountered. A slow smile played across his dark, handsome features. This was the kind of challenge he enjoyed... By now, the entire Western Army would be looking for him at his father, the king's orders, but Wade was no longer interested in hearing what his "dear old father" had to say. Wade was an independent man - had been ever since he first escaped from the Dun Palace last year and navigated his way down the great Lollipo River. And if his father was upset that Wade had left the Palace with a significantly smaller fortune in its stores, it was no business of Wade's. _

A breeze stirred up some sand, drawing Wade's attention for the first time to the terrain. Low shrubs and sparse patches of green surrounded by an increasingly plain sandy color. This was a good sign - the Great Wasteland was very close. And, oh! The adventures he would have there! The Great Wasteland, where there was no law, no King, and only the quickest to pull their wands survived. Wade had heard rumors of infamous thieves and spies who based their operations out of the Wasteland - perhaps there was even a group willing to take a chance on him. Fortunes were made or broken in the Wasteland... And Wade had every intention of becoming a very wealthy man. 

Well - enough of this idle dreaming. Canaan'arfon was the last stop before the Great Wastelands and his fortune... 

Draco continued to read, finally reaching the heart-stopping conclusion where Wade single-handedly hexed his way through the entire Western Army and, after stealing the General's wand, finally arrived in the Great Wastelands. It left Draco eager to begin reading Book 4. The cover of the book was enticing enough. Wade, in all his calm glory, was waving his wand at a very fierce-looking creature guarding a treasure. Every so often Wade would turn from the battle and flash a smile that Draco had been told made witches everywhere swoon. 

If _The Unmerciful Manticore_ were anywhere near as suspenseful as _The Escape from Paradise_, Draco would be completely engaged for the next few hours. There was probably still another hour or so before the Express reached Hogsmeade, and he was sure he'd be a good ways through it by the time they reached Hogwarts, so long as--- 

"Hey, Draco!" 

--so long as he wasn't disturbed. Draco groaned and put down the book. He was none too surprised to see Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle standing in front of him. Crabbe and Goyle were what Draco liked to call 'perfunctory friends'. He was expected to be their friends because their parents were friends of his parents. Both Crabbe and Goyle were burly and intimidating and could obviously be used to his advantage, but Draco would have liked to choose his own friends. Besides, Crabbe and Goyle were two of the stupidest people Draco had ever met - and Draco rather felt like it was an insult to his intelligence to be forced to be around them all the time. He was sure he could feel brain cells dying whenever the two of them were near. 

"What is it?" 

Goyle pointed back to the door and grunted. "Everyone's talking about it... Harry Potter is on this train!" 

Draco's eyes widened slightly. Harry Potter! But of course that was right; Harry Potter would be about his age and starting his first year at Hogwarts. The wheels in Draco's mind started turning. What a great boost for his popularity if he were to become friends with the Boy Who Lived! 

"Which compartment did they say he was on?" 

"Back here!" 

"Come on!" 

The three boys hurried back through the train, stopping only to ask an occasional student if they knew where Harry Potter was. Finally they reached a compartment near the end of the train. Inside were two boys, obviously both first years, as their robes were without house markings. One of the boys was a lanky redhead, while the other Draco recognized as being the boy from Mme Malkin's robe shop. With a start, Draco recalled the conversation with him, and he realized that this boy must have been the famous Harry Potter. Frankly, Draco was a bit disappointed. Well, it really didn't matter what Draco thought of him... this was Harry Potter, and in the end what mattered was what other people thought. 

"Is it true?" Draco stepped forward, making his appearance known. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" 

"Yes." The monosyllabic response, yet again! Draco was about to make a sarcastic comment back at him, before he caught himself. He needed to be nice to Harry Potter... so Draco held back, noticing at the same time that Harry Potter (Draco couldn't yet think of him as plain _Harry_) was looking at Crabbe and Goyle warily. 

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he said, nodding to indicate them. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." _And you be sure to remember it_, he smiled to himself. But his introduction was cut short by a barely concealed laugh from the other boy. Draco looked piercingly at him. Worn robes, bright red hair, and a forgotten corned beef sandwich lying next to him on the seat. The first word to come to his mind was 'poor'. The second was 'Weasley'. 

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco was satisfied to see the boy's ears grow red in a cross between embarrassment and rage. With a smirk, he turned back to Harry, emboldened with arrogance. 

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you out there." At this, Draco stuck out his hand in a gallant offer of friendship. 

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry replied coldly, making no move to shake his hand. Draco could feel his cheeks begin to flush. In a vain effort to recover his pride, he lashed out at him, realizing too late that he had probably ruined any chance he had of befriending Harry Potter. 

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." 

Instantly, the Weasley boy stood up, attempting to look menacing and quite honestly failing due to his proximity to Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Say that again," he ground out. 

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Getting into a fight with the Boy Who Lived was not high on his to-do list. 

"Unless you get out now," Harry nodded emphatically. This, of course, put Draco in a very awkward position. Backing down was not an option, but he did not want to be on Potter's bad side. In the end, his pride was worth more than Potter's approval. After all, what is a Malfoy if not confident, prideful, and generally haughty? 

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." 

As soon as he said it, Draco had reason to regret the hasty words. _Nothing like burning bridges you need to cross, eh?_ And just like that, all of Draco's hopes of instant popularity resulting from a friendship with Potter flew out the window. The battle lines were drawn. 

Crabbe and Goyle, apparently spoiling for a fight and a meal, instantly reached for some of Potter and Weasley's food. But as Goyle reached for a chocolate frog, something small and dark latched itself onto his knuckle. He reared back, howling, and swinging the _thing_ - Draco thought it might be a rat - around and around. After a few very uncomfortable seconds, it flew off and hit the window. 

Just then, Draco heard footsteps in the hall. Better leave before they all got in trouble for fighting. He grabbed Crabbe and Goyle (who was cradling his injured hand carefully) by their robes and they hastily made their way back to their compartment. 

"What a waste!" Draco sighed, as he collapsed back into his seat. "Famous Harry Potter, siding with a _Weasley_ over a Malfoy. Absolutely absurd." He was aware that he was whining, but quite frankly he didn't care. After all, who was there to hear him save for Crabbe and Goyle? "Just goes to show you that fame isn't everything, eh? Well, he'll regret that decision!" Crabbe cracked his knuckles, nodding menacingly. Goyle just sulked in his seat, still holding onto his hand. 

They sat in silence for a moment, until they heard a voice echo through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." Draco felt a nervous, queasy pit in his stomach, but he was much too excited to notice it. He quickly pulled on his robes and waited breathlessly until the train pulled into the station with a groaning halt, and stepped off onto the dark platform. 

~~~ 

To be continued... 


	4. Slytherin

**Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard - Year 1 at Hogwarts**  
by: Star Bunny  
rated: PG

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy belongs to JKR... and so do most of my other characters... and quite a few of my plot devices... and a bunch of the quotes. But I do own Wade Wadsworth, the brave, heroic, and very cute. ^_~ 

Note: You'll notice that I'm taking quite a few quotes from the books, but I'm also making up some scenes. Anything I make up is subject to be revised should future Harry Potter novels contradict what I've written. I want this to be as close to canon as possible. :) 

Spoilers: PS and CoS so far. Eventually all four. 

Chapter 4 - Slytherin 

Draco pulled his robe tighter as he looked around the cold station. He could see other students pushing to get off of the train, jostling each other and sometimes foolishly bumping into him. Draco sent them a look so dark that, had he not been a wizard fully in control of his powers, they might have found themselves on the bottom of the lake he had heard of - or so he liked to think. 

Crabbe and Goyle had now joined him, but Draco was not interested in company just now. The huge man that he had seen in the robe shop with Harry Potter (_Hagrid, was it?_) was bellowing through the crowd in a most frightful way, casing Draco yet another distraction. 

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Draco was sickened at the way Potter waved back at the man - he seemed to actually _like_ the company of the git. 

"C'mon, follow me-any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" 

The group of first years, finally assembled, followed the giant down a narrow path through what must have been a forest. It was very quiet except for an occasional sniffle from a clumsy-looking boy towards the back and the rustle of the wind through the trees. 

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here." 

And what a sight it was! Draco was quite speechless... Hogwarts was everything people had told him, and more. There was a collective "Oooooh!" from the students as they gazed at the castle across the lake. Draco did so appreciate beauty, and Hogwarts was exactly like what he would have wanted his school to be. He began to imagine himself sleeping up in one of the turrets, staring out at the lake and watching the stars. Yes, he could get used to this. 

"No more'n four to a boat!" Draco was startled from his thoughts by the gamekeeper getting them all settled into boats to cross the lake. Draco climbed in to an empty one, the ever-faithful Crabbe and Goyle following suit. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who - much to Draco's amusement (_the fat hairy lug!_)- was in a boat by himself. "Right then-FORWARD!" 

The boat ride was like something out of a dream - or perhaps like something out of one of his books. It was beautiful. The castle was at the top of a cliff that jutted out from the edge of the lake. The boats showed no sign of stopping as they neared the cliff, which dwarfed even the giant gamekeeper. 

"Heads down!" called Hagrid, and Draco watched the first boats seemingly disappear beneath a thick growth of ivy. Draco ducked as he reached the ivy, only to find that it concealed a deep tunnel in the cliff face. The end of the trip was not nearly so breathtaking, although it was a bit thrilling to be riding in a boat underneath the school in a tunnel so dark you couldn't see the next turn. At last the tunnel widened to form a harbor, and the boats all slowed to a stop. Draco climbed out onto the shore as gracefully as he could manage. 

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid grunted from one of the boats. 

Draco raised his head in amusement; bringing a toad to Hogwarts was tantamount to an admission of social ineptitude. The boy in question, the one who had been crying on the walk down, held out his hands excitedly, suddenly all smiles, and cried, 

"Trevor!" 

Draco openly smirked, the wheels already turning in his head. Here was a perfect opportunity for him to assert himself this year. He had heard that Hufflepuffs were easy to pick on, and if this boy weren't a Hufflepuff Draco would get a toad himself! He said as much to Crabbe and Goyle, who laughed stupidly and said they would do the same. 

The trio followed the rest of the group to the base of the castle. The castle was even more impressive up close then it had been from their first view on the lake. As a child, Draco had thought that there could not be another building so great in stature as his home - but although he would never admit it to anyone, Hogwarts was nearly equal to Malfoy Manor in both stature and taste. 

He walked up the front steps, taking everything in while feigning an air of indifference and superiority. Hagrid paused at the door and turned around. 

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" 

Draco snickered, watching the 'toad-boy' clutch Trevor tightly. But his smile faded as Hagrid pounded on the door and a nervous hush fell over the group. The door opened to reveal a rather stern-looking witch with emerald green robes and a look on her face that reminded Draco of the look on his tutor's face when he had put two scoops of salt into his tea instead of sugar. 

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said, pulling the door open. If Draco had any remaining doubts that Hogwarts was a castle out of one of his books, they were laid to rest with one glance at the entrance hall. The size was not so impressive - the entrance to Malfoy Manor was comparable - but the intricate detail of the marble staircase, the sheer height of the ceiling, and the warmth of the light from the torches hinted at something that Draco could not identify, but that he knew set Hogwarts apart from anything else of this world. 

The group of first years followed the Professor into a small room, where they all crowded together nervously. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said matter-of-factly. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." 

Draco, who knew instinctively that her words could not be directed at him, watched her gaze rest on the toad-boy's askew cape and mentally congratulated himself on his constant attention to his appearance. 

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." 

As soon as she left, a slight buzz came over the room as groups of students began discussing everything from the Sorting Ceremony to their queasy stomachs. One girl with rather bushy hair was even muttering spells to herself, complete with descriptions of each spell's most common uses. 

Draco hung back at the perimeter of the group, preferring instead to watch and listen. It was a skill he had learned at many a business meeting or dinner party. There was no better way to establish your position in a group than to let others voice their opinions - or in the case of the toad-boy, wear their fears on their faces. Of course Draco was nervous; the Sorting Ceremony had every first year student biting fingernails or nursing butterflies in their stomachs. But there was no reason for Draco to announce this to the others as they were doing to him. Better keep his silence and let others assume what they will. 

As a consequence to watching and listening, Draco was also the first to notice them. Ghosts, about twenty of them, and all so busy in their discussion that they failed to notice the students at first. 

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" said a rather portly ghost wearing the robes of a monk. The ghost he was talking to was wearing a ruff and tights, and Draco thought he looked at bit like a fully dressed turkey. 

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?" 

The students looked at each other, each hoping that someone else would answer for them. 

"New students!" the Fat Friar smiled. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" 

Draco nodded, along with a few of the braver students. 

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know." 

"Move along now," said Professor McGonagall, coming back into the room. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now, form a line and follow me." 

Draco fell into line in between Crabbe and Goyle and entered the Great Hall. The ceiling was what first caught Draco's eye. It was amazing how much it looked like the night sky - in fact, had he not known better, he might have thought that there was not a ceiling at all. When he could finally tear his gaze off of the sky, he noticed the hundreds of candles floating over the tables, the numerous people watching him, and the impressive spread of plates, goblets, and empty platters. 

At the front of the room sat the teachers. Draco recognized Professor Snape from the meeting with his father and Professor Dumbledore from his collection of Chocolate Frog cards. Of course, the Dumbledore on his card had seemed a bit more... eccentric than the wise- and impressive-looking Dumbledore in front of him now. 

Professor McGonagall had set a three-legged stool down and a tattered, patched hat on top with as little ceremony as possible. However, the entire hall seemed to fall under an enchanted silence as they waited for... something. The hat suddenly twitched, and then it began to sing: 

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,   
But don't judge on what you see,   
I'll eat myself if you can find   
A smarter hat than me.   
You can keep your bowlers black,   
Your top hats sleek and tall,   
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat   
And I can cap them all.   
There's nothing hidden in your head   
The Sorting Hat can't see,   
So try me on and I will tell you   
Where you ought to be.   
You might belong in Gryffindor,   
Where dwell the brave at heart,   
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry   
Set Gryffindors apart;   
You might belong in Hufflepuff,   
Where they are just and loyal,   
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true   
And unafraid of toil;   
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,   
If you've a ready mind,   
Where those of wit and learning,   
Will always find their kind;   
Or perhaps in Slytherin   
You'll make your real friends,   
Those cunning folk use any means   
To achieve their ends.   
So put me on! Don't be afraid!   
And don't get in a flap!   
You're in safe hands (though I have none)   
For I'm a Thinking Cap!" 

The entire Hall burst into applause, and the Sorting Hat bowed in turn to each table. Then Professor McGonagall unfurled the scroll in her hands. 

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!" 

Draco watched intently as a small girl with long blonde hair placed the hat on her head - it was too large for her, and fell into the eyes - and sat down on the stool. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. 

Well, now. That didn't seem too bad. Perhaps this Sorting Ceremony wouldn't be as bad as it had been made to be. He relaxed a bit as McGonagall called "Bones, Susan!" up to the front. She was a Hufflepuff as well, and went to join Hannah at the Hufflepuff table - a rather boring lot, in Draco's opinion. 

Draco's attention wandered for a bit as "Boot, Terry!" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy!" became Ravenclaws, but the loud and obnoxious cheering coming from the far left table when "Brown, Lavender" was revealed to be a Gryffindor jerked him rather unpleasantly back to his surroundings. He noted with distaste that there were even a pair of twins at the table catcalling as she sat down proudly among them. What a barbaric house! 

The next to be sorted was "Bulstrode, Millicent," a stocky girl whose face reminded Draco of a giantess eating a lemon. She was the first Slytherin to be chosen, and the table at the far right of the Hall erupted with cheers. 

"Crabbe, Vincent!" 

Draco watched Crabbe plod up to the stool only half-heartedly. There was no doubt in is mind which house his friend would be in. In fact, at this point he completely lost interest in the whole process. There were simply too many students to remember. He sighed, wondering when his name might come up. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the sorting ceremony ("Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"…"HUFFLEPUFF!"… "Finnigan, Seamus!" … "GRYFFINDOR!" … "Goyle, Gregory!"…"SLYTHERIN!"), but his mind was certainly elsewhere. 

As Goyle clumsily make his way to the Slytherin table, Draco's attention was drawn to a girl at the Ravenclaw table who was clapping along with the Slytherins. Now that was odd. Draco had been under the impression that none of the other houses would dream of supporting Slytherin. And even though she was clapping lazily and almost half-heartedly, it was enough of a statement that she was doing it at all. 

As "Granger, Hermione!" sat on the stool, and he peered at the Ravenclaw girl with barely concealed interest. What self-respecting Ravenclaw would clap for a Slytherin? 

Suddenly the crowd burst out laughing, and Draco turned to see the toad-boy run back with the Sorting Hat in his hand, face flushing. Draco smirked as the boy made his way to Gryffindor. That was just like a Gryffindor. And before he turned his attention fully back to the ceremony, he once more caught a glimse of the Ravenclaw girl... and this time she was looking at him, too. Draco froze for a moment, slightly embarrassed that he had been caught staring. But then instinct took over and he flashed her a rather bold smile. To his surprise, her mouth turned up in what looked like an amused smirk - but her eyes locked on to his and did not move. 

"Malfoy, Draco!" 

Had Draco been an impulsive boy, he might have winked at her before he took the stool, but as he had been taught to present himself as a true Malfoy no matter the circumstances, he simply walked up to the stool with what he hoped was a fully confident, unruffled manner. He felt one brief moment of nervousness, but it was all dispelled when the hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" the instant it touched his forehead. 

Draco smirked, feeling quite pleased that he hat had made its decision so quickly. His father would be proud of him... and he did not miss that the Ravenclaw girl was once again clapping, giving him a slow, easy smile. 

Draco sat down at the Slytherin House table, glad that the stupid ceremony was finally over. Except that it wasn't. He had conveniently forgotten that there would be more first years after him, and he sighed with barely concealed boredom as "Moon," "Nott," "Parkinson," two "Patils," and "Perks, Sally-Anne" were called. Until finally, McGonagall called out in her much-too-serious voice, 

"Potter, Harry!" 

The entire Hall was silent for perhaps three tenths of a second as what she had said sunk in. Then, a collective murmuring as excitement began to build. 

"Potter, did she say?" 

"The Harry Potter?" 

The boy sitting to Draco's right leaned in and whispered to him, "Harry Potter at Hogwarts! Could you imagine, if he were a Slytherin?" 

"Doubt it," Draco grumbled. "He's a bit of a prat." The boy gave him a funny look and turned his attention back to the Sorting. After several very tense seconds, the Hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and the table on the other side of the Hall burst into raucous cheers. The twins were once again making a scene, chanting in the most annoying fashion, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" 

"Of all the luck!" the boy next to Draco sighed. "He had to be a Gryffindor!" 

McGonagall, who seemed hardly phased that such a celebrity had joined her house, continued on with the sorting. There were only four left now. "Thomas, Dean!" -- a Gryffindor -- "Turpin, Lisa," -- a Ravenclaw -- Ron Weasley -- a Gryffindor -- and finally "Zabini, Blaise," who was the final Slytherin. As she made her way to the Slytherins, Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll, picked up the stool, and left the Hall with the Sorting Hat. 

Just then, Dumbledore got to his feet. 

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! 

"Thank you!" 

Draco took back his previous thoughts about the Headmaster. The man was a lunatic! But as the old man sat down, huge helpings of food had appeared in the golden plates in front of him, and all other thoughts immediately left his mind. Draco loved steak, and he was especially fond of roast chicken. Within seconds, his plate was full and he mouth promptly stuffed. 

The boy to his right, Draco soon learned, was fourth year named Peter Warrington who was a Chaser on the House Quidditch team. This sparked a quite enthusiastic discussion about Quidditch, favorite teams, and which of the first years were interested in practicing for a chance at a position next year. 

"Our team is very competitive," Peter explained. "We've won the cup every year since that blasted Seeker from Gryffindor, Charlie Weasley, graduated a few years back. In fact, we almost won it his seventh year, the ruddy git." 

"Greetings, young Slytherins." Draco felt a chill at the cold, solemn voice, and turned to see a pale, thin ghost with a terribly serious face and robes splashed liberally with silver blood. The hairs on the back of Draco's neck stood up, and he had to repress the shiver of distaste and fear that went up his spine. This was no ghost like the ones in the entrance hall. There was an air of nobility mixed in with the dark power that this ghost seemed to emanate that quite frankly made Draco very uncomfortable to be sitting next to him. 

"Welcome to Slytherin House. I am the Bloody Baron, resident ghost of this House. We have won the House championship for the past six years, and I think you will find it is a privilege to be a member of what is indisputably the greatest House in Hogwarts history. I expect all of you," he paused here to catch the eye of every first year, "to bring glory to this house during your stay." 

Draco's appetite began to fade fast as the implications of what the Bloody Baron was saying sunk in. The way he had said it sounded more like an ultimatum than a welcome speech. Once the Baron floated away, Draco turned to Peter. "Is he always this..." 

"Oh, he's nothing. Wait until you hear what Snape has to say to us tonight." 

"Snape! But he's harmless." 

Peter laughed shortly, and shook his head. "You just wait." 

Dessert was a bit ruined for Draco, but he ate heartily nonetheless. Once the desserts had all been eaten, Professor Dumbledore stood up once more and addressed the crowd. 

"Ahern-just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!" 

Draco chose "God Save the Queen," as he had always been fond of that tune, and joined in with the rest of the student body: 

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,   
Teach us something please,   
Whether we be old and bald   
Or young with scabby knees,   
Our heads could do with filling   
With some interesting stuff,   
For now they're bare and full of air,   
Dead flies and bits of fluff,   
So teach us things worth knowing,   
Bring back what we've forgot,   
just do your best, we'll do the rest,   
And learn until our brains all rot. 

The tune didn't really fit with the song, but it was strangely satisfying to sing to his own tune while everyone else sang to theirs. The last to finish, of course, were the twins from the Gryffindor table. They had chosen a funeral dirge which didn't fit the song at all. Dumbledore seemed to enjoy it, though, as he conducted the last few lines with then and clapped heartily at the end. 

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his tear from his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!" 

~~~ 

To be continued... 


	5. Potions

**Draco Malfoy and the Wily Wizard - Year 1 at Hogwarts**  
by: Star Bunny  
rated: PG

Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy belongs to JKR... and so do most of my other characters... and quite a few of my plot devices... and a bunch of the quotes. But I do own Wade Wadsworth, the brave, heroic, and very cute. ^_~ 

Note: You'll notice that I'm taking quite a few quotes from the books, but I'm also making up some scenes. Anything I make up is subject to be revised should future Harry Potter novels contradict what I've written. I want this to be as close to canon as possible. :) 

This was a very _long_ chapter to write. Add that to the horrible semester I've had, and you have my excuse for why this took so long. Hope it's satisfactory. ;) Should everything go as planned, chapter six will be out much sooner. I hope you are all enjoying reading this! 

Spoilers: PS and CoS so far. Eventually all four. 

Chapter 5 - Potions 

The dungeons! The Slytherin dormitories were in the ruddy dungeons! Draco couldn't believe it. No wonder the Slytherins had a reputation of being mean and vindictive. He bet that even the Gryffindors would turn evil if they had to live in the dungeons for _seven years_. The Common Room wasn't so bad, he supposed. At least there was a nice glow coming from the lamps and the fireplace. But his room was horrible. There were no windows, and the walls were slightly damp, giving the room a muggy, constrictive feel. It was cold, too. Draco didn't suppose that he was going to get a decent night's sleep anytime in the near future. It didn't help any that he had to share the dorm with three other boys. He didn't know about that Nott boy, but he was quite sure that Crabbe and Goyle snored something fierce in their sleep. 

Once the boys had toured the room to their satisfaction, they returned to the Common Room for a meeting that had been called for all first years. There were seven Slytherin first years, aside from Draco. On the boys end there were Crabbe and Goyle, obviously, and Brandon Nott. Draco had never met him before, but he was sure he had heard his father mention something about the elder Nott at some point. He was a small boy - clearly the smallest of the first years - with a mop of almost tidy brown hair and small, pinched eyes which made him look like he was squinting at everyone. 

As for the girls, Draco was wholly unimpressed with the lot of them. There was Millicent Bulstrode - who would probably lose to a troll in a beauty contest - and Blaise Zabini who, though she was striking with her curly strawberry blonde hair and piercing aquamarine eyes, struck Draco as dangerous and explosive. He wasn't sure he was ready to find out why. Morag MacDougal's limp black hair fell carelessly into her dark brown eyes. It was those eyes, those dark, dispassionate, soulless eyes that made Draco's skin crawl as they stared out at him from her thin, sallow face. Out of the lot, Pansy Parkinson seemed to be the most normal. Or, perhaps, it was just that she was the most like him. The Parkinsons, unlike the Bulstrodes, the Zabinis, and the MacDougals, were filthy rich, and Pansy was therefore spoiled. Pansy was not as beautiful as Blaise - she had nice blonde hair which set off her slightly round face and cute freckles dotting her perfect skin, all of which were ruined by the great pug nose right square on her face - but she didn't have the cold aloofness that followed Blaise around. Instead, she was quite obviously and forwardly a royal pain in the rear. She was the leader of the girls; it was obvious already. Besides, she was by far the most garrulous of the lot. 

As the eight first years waited in the Common Room for the meeting to begin, Draco took the opportunity to examine the room more thoroughly. The door to the dorms, which was a false stone wall on the outside, was thick and richly carved. The ceiling of the common room was high - perhaps as much as three stories - and at the very top there was a small lattice window, which was the only natural light afforded to the room. The walls reminded Draco of the inside of a gothic cathedral, with its high arches and raw appearance. The seats were all plush leather, a dark green that added to the dark ambiance of the room. Several lamps with green lampshades cast an eerie green glow about the room, and a brass chandelier hung down from the lofty ceiling. Thick Persian rugs littered the stone floor, adding a bit of warmth from an otherwise cold room. The fireplace was certainly Draco's favourite feature of the room. It was harsh - rough, even - and yet the fire glowing inside made the roughness warm and powerful, just as a fireplace should be, he thought. 

His attention was drawn away from the fireplace by a voice outside the entrance saying loudly, "_Vexamen!_" which, as they all knew, was the Slytherin password. The large door slid open, and Professor Snape entered the Common Room much the way Draco thought he might enter his classroom. His robe was billowing behind him, and he looked wholly above whatever he saw in the room. 

"I am Professor Snape, the Potions master at this school," he began in a baleful, commanding voice. "I am also the head of Slytherin House, and as such you will all answer to me. Slytherin did not become the most dominant house at Hogwarts through the sheer talent of its students. I have taught many Slytherin students who possessed not even a shred of talent, intelligence, or sense. Slytherin has, and always will, rise to the top not on the merit of its students, but out of an ambition to be nowhere but the top. I do not permit Slytherins to foolishly lose their house points. I do not permit Slytherin students to spend their nights in detention. I do not permit a Slytherin student to receive marks that are a whit lower than their potential. And I certainly do not allow a Slytherin Quidditch team to lose a game for _any_ reason, no matter the excuse. Any student with low marks or in detention shall answer directly to me. 

"I understand that in many of your homes, the Dark Arts are practiced regularly. At Hogwarts, there will be more points than you would like to consider taken from the house for being caught. Hence, there will be no Dark Arts practiced while at this school. Slytherin will not lose the House Cup because of a few daring students trying to bone up on their unforgivable curses. 

"The penalty for losing points for Slytherin - for any reason - is more dreadful than you can imagine. I myself shall never take points from this house, but should I discover that any of you have lost points from the house, you will _wish_ that I had simply taken away points, given you a detention, and left it there. 

"We in Slytherin have many different ambitions, but there is none more pressing and important than our continued dominance over the other houses. Should we lose this, we lose our respect, we have nothing, and we are nothing. Never forget this. I wish you all a successful year." 

Then, with no warning, he strode purposefully out the door. A pregnant silence hung through the room for a long moment. It was clear from the expressions on most of the other student's faces that they were as shocked as he was. Draco hoped that he was doing a better job of hiding this than they were. 

"Right," he nodded brusquely. "Now that's out of the way, I think I'll turn in for the night." He rose from the couch to return to the dormitories. 

"Draco." 

He turned, cocking an eyebrow at Pansy. She fiddled with the ends of her braid, probably attempting to look innocent. 

"I was wanting to get in a game of exploding snap tonight. It'll probably be the last chance we get for a while, with school starting tomorrow." 

"Perhaps some other time, Pansy," he declined imperiously. "I have other things to do tonight." 

Pansy held his gaze for a moment, before turning to the others. Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, Blaise, and Brandon Nott ended up joining her, but Morag left the group silently to return to her dormitory as well - not, however, before she once again set her muted eyes on him. He shivered and reflexively took two steps back. As the corners of her mouth turned up in a barely amused smile, she pushed her bangs out of her eyes and walked down the stairs to her room. 

Draco cast a nervous glance at the group next to the fireplace. He hoped they hadn't seen that. It would certainly compromise his position if he were to be looked upon as a coward - even if he really were one. The Slytherin lot was fickle. Leaders were what they made of themselves - one mistake, and it could all be gone. 

Deciding that he must be more careful in the future, he returned to his room. He flopped down on his bed and scowled at the mattress for a long moment. He was expected to sleep on _this_? With a sigh, he opened his trunk and pulled out his book. Perhaps he would get a few chapters in before the others were done with their game. 

Soon, Draco was lost in the dangers of the Great Wasteland. Thieves, spies, and treasure hunts were certainly more exciting than the horrid shocks he had been dealt today. It was only when the other boys returned to the room that he was pulled back to reality. 

"Draco," Crabbe frowned, as if thinking very hard. "Didn't that boy you thought would be in Hufflepuff get put in Gryffindor?" 

"So what if he did?" Draco scoffed. "I don't see much of a difference between the two houses anyway." 

"But you said you would get a toad if he wasn't in Hufflepuff." Draco almost fell off his bed. Crabbe was showing more intelligence that he ever had in the ten years Draco had known him. It was very eerie. And there was no way Draco was getting a toad. 

"It's a figure of speech, you dolt." 

"Oh, good," Goyle sighed. "I really didn't want a toad." 

"So, Draco," Brandon grinned, "Who was that girl I saw you making eyes at during the Sorting Ceremony?" 

"Don't see as that's any of your business, Nott." 

With a laugh, the boy pulled his pajama top over his head. "Call me Brandon. And believe me, I'm going to make it my business. Big Draco Malfoy and the Ravenclaw... What a scandal that would be!" 

"Right," Draco rolled his eyes dismissively. 

"Poor Pansy. And Blaise. And _Morag_." He dragged out Morag's name, his grin growing wider the whole time. "They'll be ever so disappointed to learn their precious Draco Malfoy is already taken." 

Whatever else may be true about eleven year-old boys, let it be known that they never like to be teased about girls liking them. Especially girls that they have no interest in whatsoever. 

"Shove it, Brandon," was Draco's eloquent response. And with as much ceremony as was possible, he closed the curtains to his four-poster and crawled under the sheets. 

~~~ 

The next morning, Draco crawled out of bed bleary-eyed and cranky. He had just had the worst night's sleep he could ever remember. Being cold and sleeping on a hard mattress would have been enough, but the instant he had found a semi-comfortable position, one of his roommates would wake him up. Draco's first impulse about Crabbe and Goyle had been right. They did snore - very **loudly**. And Brandon, the only one who _didn't_ snore, talked in his sleep. He had apparently had a dream about food, for he had at one point sat up in bed and said very loudly, "chocolate milkshake!" Draco found himself wishing that the first spell he learned at Hogwarts would be a very strong Muting Charm. 

After dressing in his newly marked robes, he attempted to make his way up to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the way, he met up with several older Slytherins, all of whom he learned were on the Quidditch team. Marcus Flint, the sixth year captain, didn't strike Draco as a particularly bright boy, but he certainly knew his Quidditch. 

"Snape's a huge Quidditch fan," he grinned, big teeth jutting out from his mouth, "so he overlooks some of my 'less spectacular' grades in lieu of my outstanding Quidditch skills. I've been Quidditch captain since my fourth year, and Slytherin has never lost a game under my leadership!" 

Terrance Higgs, another sixth year, was the team Seeker - small and light, he was the complete antithesis of Marcus. 

"Yeah," he grinned. "McGonagall's been trying to get him suspended as captain for months. Marcus isn't too good at Transfiguration," he whispered jokingly, provoking a sharp punch from Flint. The group entered the Great Hall and proceeded toward their table. "But Snape always manages to keep him eligible, and good thing, too. The Ravenclaw team is looking really good this year. Their Seeker, Renee Triste, has gotten really good." 

"Good looking, I think you mean," laughed Adrian Pucey, a fifth year Chaser. "Terrence's got a thing for older women, especially _intelligent_ older women!" 

"Hey!" Terrence attempted to look hurt, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching. "She's only a seventh year. Not that much older, now is she?" 

"Speaking of Ravenclaw," Draco spoke up, pointing across the room at the girl he had seen last night, "do any of you know who that girl is over there? She seemed really interested in the Slytherins last night in the Sorting." 

"Actually," Terrence smiled, "that would be my sister. Whole family's been in Slytherin, except for her, going back for generations. Bit of a shock, really, but our family's quite brilliant. Bound to happen at some point." 

"Oh, here he goes," Adrian groaned and continued in a high-pitched voice. "'I should have been put in Ravenclaw. The girls are so smart in Ravenclaw. Why can't I have an intelligent conversation with Slytherin girls? Renee is so beautiful I think I want to-'" 

"All right, enough! You know I love Slytherin - but it would be nice to see some Slytherin girls take pride in their work for a change. They're a dull lot, I'm telling you." 

The boys all laughed. Marcus slung an arm around Draco's shoulder and shook his head. 

"Not to scare you or anything, Draco," he attempted to put a serious look on his face, "But the female population of Slytherin is looking pretty bleak." Adrian lifted his fist. 

"Hear, hear! Better grab yourself a half-decent one before it's too late. Although," his voice suddenly took on a completely different tone, "that Zabini girl isn't half bad, if I do say so myself." 

"Yes, too bad she's five years too young," Marcus sighed. 

"And since when has that stopped you?" Terrence laughed, setting off the rest of them. 

Draco, who had gone strangely silent, was left with the distinct impression that he had some serious maturing to do - and fast. 

At breakfast, Draco sat down next to a second year girl named Bronwyn and a third year boy named Alexander. Before long, Crabbe and Goyle joined them at the table, and the five of them studied their course tables while devouring pancakes and strawberries. 

"Today's Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. Then Herbology. Tuesday we have History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Astronomy Tuesday night, and we don't even have Potions until Friday!" 

"And with the Gryffindors at that," Goyle grunted. 

"Be glad you have Potions with the Gryffindors," Bronwyn smiled cruelly. "Snape has it in for them, and he'll be sure to give you a break." 

Draco wasn't so sure of this, as Snape hadn't seemed ready to give anyone a break last night. Goyle seemed to agree, as he wrinkled his nose and stabbed at his pancake rather forcefully. Then again, he could simply have been concentrating rather hard on the task of eating. 

A whooshing noise from the ceiling indicated that mail had come. Having grown up in the wizarding world, Draco was quite used to owls flying about and dropping off packages. But never had he seen quite so many owls at the same time. The closest had perhaps been for his father's fortieth birthday when before breakfast there had already been 83 owls containing well-wishes and presents. But now, nearly two hundred owls were swooping through the room, dropping off forgotten items and first-day-of-school presents. Draco noticed Alita among them, gliding down towards him on her enormous wings. She had a package clutched in her talons, which Draco immediately relieved her of. 

It was a package of sweets from his mum - more than he would be able to eat in two weeks. He grinned, mouth watering at the thought of all the late-night snacks he would be able to have. After feeding Alita a treat and watching her fly off, he opened the letter. 

_Draco, _

How are you enjoying Hogwarts? Are you keeping your grades up? 

Draco would have laughed out loud had he not known how serious his parents were being - only the first day of school, and they were already asking about his grades?! 

_Be careful of who you make friends with. Be sure to never start fights, etc, which might reflect poorly on your upbringing. Fighting is for those who do not hold power to try and take it from those with power. Remember this._

He rolled his eyes. Perhaps his father might not need to fight to maintain his hold over people, but Draco was an eleven-year-old boy. Fighting was a second language to him. 

_Your mother thought you might like some sweets to keep your spirits up. She wants to make sure that you're eating right and not losing any weight. If you need any help with your classes, Professor Snape has offered to help you. It would be wise of you to listen to his advice. Enjoy your school year. _

Father and Mother 

Draco put the letter down, not really interested in thinking about school just yet. There were many more important things to think about - such as how many chocolate frogs he would have to eat before he finally found the Rowena Ravenclaw card he still did not have. He had heard that her picture was especially - _friendly_ - to a wizard who could stuff the entire frog into his mouth. However, that could end up being just like the rumour about the Uric the Oddball, who was said to make rude faces at wizards and witches who hung his card upside down. All he had ever done to Draco was stare blankly at him while his face turned red from the blood rushing to it and his hair stood on end. 

Just before he left for breakfast, Draco looked across the Great Hall to see Terrence's sister Ashley staring at him. This presented Draco with a very difficult decision to make: head straight for his Transfiguration class, so that in case he got lost he would still be on time; or he could forget about class and go talk with her. 

His decision was made in less than a second. All thoughts of class out of his mind, he began to walk over to the Ravenclaw table, sweets in hand. _Girls like sweets, right?_ he thought vaguely. 

"Draco Malfoy!" 

He turned abruptly, ready to give the speaker a piece of his mind, and was forced to bite his tongue at the last minute. 

"Professor Snape," he forced a tiny smile onto his face. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe you have a Transfiguration class to attend. Professor McGonagall is not a lenient teacher. We do not want to lose any point for Slytherin on the first day, do we?" 

Draco shook his head obediently. How was it that Snape could command such an air of authority? He was nothing more than a greasy-haired, middle-aged, lonely, cranky man - but he had the gift of power and influence much like Draco's father did. Had Draco been completely honest with himself, he might have admitted to even feeling a tiny bit of fear towards the Potions Master. 

Resisting the urge to scowl, he left the Great Hall and went to find his class. Along the way, he met Crabbe and Goyle, who had gotten themselves lost and were returning to the Great Hall. Draco almost laughed at them, but he thought better of it. A few minutes later he was glad for the mercy he had shown. Hogwarts was a maze of corridors and vanishing rooms, moving staircases and fickle walls. By the time they reached the classroom, they were only just on time. 

Professor McGonagall looked at them sternly, as if being just on time to her class were hardly enough for her high standards. She took role, peering at each student and nodding before moving on. Then she addressed the class. 

"Today you begin your education in the magical arts," she declared in her no-nonsense voice. "I am pleased that I shall be able to introduce you to the most exact, and perhaps the most difficult, of all disciplines: Transfiguration. Should you pay attention and stick to your studies, perhaps one day you might be able to grasp such concepts as anamorphous transfiguration and, as Greenlee the Great who pioneered the study of Advanced Transfiguration, master the art of self-transfiguration. 

"Today we shall begin small. Please note that on each of your desks there is a single match. Your job will be to transfigure this match into a pin. Any ideas on how this might be achieved?" 

Several hands went up around the room. 

"Yes? Miss Turpin?" 

"By speaking an incantation?" 

"That is incorrect, although a good thought. Anyone else?" 

"Mr Nott?" 

"By prodding it with our wands until it becomes tired of being a match?" Brandon snickered at his joke, along with a few of the other students. 

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "That behaviour is unacceptable in this classroom, Mr Nott. Five points from Slytherin." 

Brandon scowled at her, obviously not intimidated. She stared back with the most disapproving frown Draco had seen. He held her gaze for a moment before lowering his head to look at his desk. 

"Good. Now, if there are no other suggestions, let us begin the discussion of Transfiguration methodology." 

~~~ 

Later that evening, Draco saw Brandon entering the Common Room. His face was pale, and he looked very shaken-up. 

"What's the matter?" he asked curiously. 

"Snape's just had a talk with me." 

"About what?" 

"Losing those points this morning," he sighed. "Rotten mess, that turned out to be." 

"What did he _say_ to you?" 

Brandon shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Nothing much," he sniffed. "Think I'm going to turn in for the night." 

Draco watched him as he mounted the stairs to the dormitory. Brandon may have acted like the talk was insignificant, but for the rest of the week he did not so much as step a toe over the line. 

~~~ 

During that first week, Draco learned many things about Hogwarts and the classes he had to take. He learned that Charms was a difficult class for him, as was Transfiguration. He learned that History of Magic was going to be an enjoyable class because Slytherins took the class with the gullible Hufflepuffs and Professor Binns would never pay any attention to the horrible things Draco could think of doing to them. Draco had already marked out the students who would be the easiest to torment, most especially Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. 

He also learned that Defence Against the Dark Arts was a waste of his time. Professor Quirrell was a snivelling coward who could no sooner defend himself against the Dark Arts than get through a sentence without stuttering. 

And then came Potions. At the end of the week, when Draco's head was finally spinning with all the new information that had been forced upon him, and after his belly was full of the sweets his mum had sent him from home, Draco had his first Potions lesson. 

The Potions lessons were taught in the dungeons, and so the classroom was cold and damp just like Draco's room. Draco found it quite twisted that after only a week at Hogwarts he had already become used to the bone-deep cold that was characteristic of the dungeons. In fact, the Potions classroom actually seemed familiar and comfortable to him! The only difference between the Slytherin dormitories and the Potions classroom were the jars filled with, for example, pickled eye of newt and boomslang skin. 

All of the students in the class were aware from the start that Snape was not a teacher to cross. He commanded respect and obedience from each of his students. Draco liked that about him. 

At the start of class, Snape began by taking the role. Draco could have been mistaken, but he thought that Snape paused at his name before continuing with the role. And then he hit Potter's name. 

"Ah, Yes," he nearly whispered, "Harry Potter. Our new-celebrity." 

Draco turned to Crabbe and Goyle, and they all laughed behind their hands. It was about time Potter got his due! 

After the role was called, Snape began to speak to the class. His voice was low, like before, but the class was silent. No one so much as shifted in his seat. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." 

A small smirk began to tug at Draco's lips. He knew he wasn't a 'dunderhead', as Snape had put it, but even had he been one, Snape had promised his father to help him out. He had no worries about _this_ class. 

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 

Very slowly, Draco sat up higher in his chair. He knew for a fact that Potter had grown up with Muggles. He would have no idea what Snape was talking about - this would be fun to watch! One of the Gryffindor girls apparently knew the answer, as she raised her hand high in the air. But Potter, who suddenly seemed very small next to his standard size cauldron, looked completely bewildered. 

"I don't know, sir," he finally answered. 

This must have been exactly the answer Snape was looking for, as his eyes began to gleam with triumph. The rest of his face, however, was curled into a sneer. 

"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything." He shifted slightly and faced him again. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" 

The Gryffindor girl's hand again shot into the air, and Draco found that he had to bite on his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. As it was, he was fairly shaking with suppressed laughter. Didn't she see that Snape was only interested in humiliating the _famous Harry Potter_? 

"I don't know, sir." 

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" 

_Hah! That'll show Potter a thing or two_, he thought. Did he think that magic was just going to come naturally to him, since he was the Boy Who Lived? It just went to show that there was nothing all that special about Harry Potter after all. 

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" 

This time the girl actually stood up, stretching her hand as high as it would go. 

"I don't know," said Harry weakly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" 

Several people started laughing, and Draco actually had to bite his tongue to stop himself. Not that he thought Potter was funny, but the girl - Hermione, he had said - was so pathetic! What a horrible know-it-all. 

Snape was not very happy with the laughter, and snapped a nasty, "Sit down," at her. He then shot a cold glare at Harry. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." He paused, regarded the rest of the class, and said impatiently, "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" 

Draco instantly reached for his quills and parchment and began to copy it all down. What was that he said? Asphodel and what? Aconite is another name for monkshood and what? Well. He would just have to pay more attention next time. His mood was further improved by Snape's next jibe at Potter. 

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." 

Ha! Draco hoped Professor McGonagall was as strict about losing House points as was Snape. 

The rest of the lesson was as enjoyable as the beginning. Their task for the day was to prepare a potion to cure boils, one of the most rudimentary potions to brew. In fact, Draco found the entire Potions process to be fascinating. Professor Snape made Potions seem full of adventure and mystery, both things that Draco craved in his effortless life. 

Draco's partner was Goyle, but that didn't bother Draco at all. He simply made the entire potion himself. Trust Goyle to do it, and he might end up with a potion that grew boils instead of removing them. But to Draco, nothing seemed as natural as crushing the snake fangs and stewing the horned slugs. This was the type of magic he liked! 

Apparently Snape thought he was good, too, because he kept praising the way he was making his potion. 

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy," he nodded. "See the perfect way he is stewing his horned slugs?" 

Just as he said this, the dungeon filled with bright green smoke and a loud hissing sound assaulted Draco's ears. The toad boy, who was sitting just behind Draco, had somehow melted his cauldron into steamy, gooey bits. The potion had spilled out over the desk and onto the floor, inching ever-closer to Draco's feet. Goyle yelped, jumping up on his stool. 

"My feet!" he cried. But no one heard him except for Draco. Not a second too soon, Draco climbed up onto his own stool, which had begun to hiss as the potion ate away at the wood. Once he was out of immediate personal danger, he was able to take in the rest of the situation. 

Students everywhere were taking refuge on their stools. Several unlucky students, like Goyle, were peering horrorstruck at where the potion had burned a hole in their shoes. Some were even nursing boils on their feet. The toad-boy had been unfortunate enough (or perhaps, Draco mused, it might have been more accurate to say 'stupid enough') to be in the direct path of the exploding potion, and was therefore covered in horrible boils from head to foot. He was moaning in a dreadful sort of way that made Draco's mouth twitch up in a half-smile. Idiot. 

"Idiot boy!" Snape spat, as though reading his mind. Draco nearly fell off his stool in surprise. Then, with an amused smirk, he decided that it might not be a bad thing to think on the same wavelength as the temperamental Potions Master. 

Snape flicked his wand and the mess vanished. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" More boils popped up over the boy's face, and he looked ready to cry. "Take him to the hospital wing," he snapped at the boy who had been unfortunate enough to be the toad-boy's partner. Then, seeming to build up even more fury, he faced Potter, who had been working on the other side of the disaster. 

"You-Potter-why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor." 

Potter looked affronted, Draco noticed gleefully, and had opened his mouth to reply. But for some inexplicable reason, he merely shut his mouth and brooded for the rest of the period. Draco felt a smile slowly forming as he turned back to face the front. 

Oh, yes. He was going to like Potions. 

~~~ 

To be continued... 


End file.
